Quirks of a Levitating Cloak
by RevyCaitEll
Summary: The Cloak of Levitation had a strange sense of humor.


Hey guys, haven't written anything in _ages_ so this is a bit rough I think. It has been beta read, by two people so hopefully there isn't any grammar or spelling mistakes.

OMG I've went to see Dr Strange three times in the cinema and I _love_ the Cloak, the way the movie has brought it to life. The movie itself I liked, with its good visuals and acting. Anyway enough from me, there is **spoilers, so spoiler alert.**

PS please vote on the poll on profile if you have read my other stories.

ENJOY;)

* * *

The Cloak of Levitation had a strange sense of humor.

Strange found this out pretty early on.

It was barely a day after Strange had bargained with Dormammu (The deaths and pain were still too fresh for his liking. He feared the memories would never fade) He was moving what little belongings he had left into the New York Sanctum when he had suddenly felt peckish. Deciding that he wasn't bothered to go cook for himself, Strange went to get a large coat so people wouldn't gawk at his clothes. Strange shrugged his coat on, only for the Cloak to shove it to the floor.

"Do you mind?" Strange asked tugging at the red garment.

Strange tried to pry the Cloak off his shoulders but the mystical relic stubbornly refused to move.

"Get off, I'm only going to get some food," Strange grunted, eventually freeing himself. He put the Cloak on a nearby coat stand. The Cloak wilted on the stand, it looked like it was sulking.

"I'll be back soon," Strange said as he walked out the door.

When Strange came back, with a stomach full of Subway, he did not expect the mess.

Every _single_ item that the Cloak was capable of moving had been moved. Chairs had been pulled far away from tables, lamps had been unplugged, rugs on the floor had been flipped over.

Strange could just stare in disbelief.

The Cloak sat innocently on the coat stand.

"What are you? Five?" Strange had started cleaning up the mess, refusing to let the Cloak settle on his shoulders. He was greatly surprised when red fluttered in the corner of his eye.

The Cloak had started cleaning too, but not before throwing a few nicknacks at Strange first.

* * *

The Cloak had a few quirks.

It hated when Strange took it off or if it got wet. It didn't like to be touched by people other than Strange. The Cloak would get bored in a sense if Strange spent too long reading, it would just annoy him until he took a break.

The Cloak didn't like a lot of things.

Things it did like, oddly enough, was to go on walks with Strange, especially if leaves were falling. The Cloak would innocently try to catch the descending leaves and Strange would find piles of them hidden throughout the Sanctum.

However, one thing the Cloak _loved_ to do was terrorise visitors to the Sanctum in particular. The Cloak would slip off of Strange's shoulders with barely a sound and would quietly slither across the room. When the visitor in question would turn around (the Cloak _always_ moved when their backs were turned) they would blink in surprise at Strange's bare shoulders.

The Cloak would sit innocently in the corner. Then it would move again and again confusing the hell out of anyone who was there. Sometimes the Cloak would move items on tables, or turn chairs around.

Strange had thought it odd and had considered reprimanding the Cloak (which in itself was weird enough, never mind that a Cloak liked to play pranks in the first place)

The thing was though, Strange had too much fun watching the Cloak's antics. Sometimes he'd even play along.

" _Weren't you just wearing that?"_

" _I have no idea what you're talking about,"_

The Cloak was far more devious to be content with just moving around the room or shifting objects. If a person got too close to Strange or if they were ill-mannered, the Cloak would sometimes slink down to the ground and trip the offender. Other times the Cloak would tug on coats, hair, trouser legs, just about anything it could away with it.

It turns out the Cloak could get away with a lot.

Strange could keenly remember when a high ranking sorcerer had come to the New York Sanctum to inspect how he was running the place. The woman was old and cynical, not to mention rude. She and Strange had immediately gotten off on the wrong foot from the moment the woman had stormed in from a sling ring portal.

* * *

"I am Renfa Stockhope, I am here to inspect the quality of security in the New York Sanctum,"

Stockhope walked straight past Strange completely ignoring his presence.

"Who are you?" He demanded not at all pleased. He refused to be bullied around. The Cloak tightened ever so slightly on his shoulders. Strange absently gave the Cloak a small pat before turning to follow his intruder.

"Renfa Stockhope, Novice, tell me how many sorcerers are here at the moment?" Stockhope briefly looked back, her wrinkly face twisted with an ugly frown.

"It's _Dr._ Strange, why are you inspecting the New York Sanctum?" He could feel his irritation rising with each word Stockhope spoke. Strange was really irked by her Novice label. He was anything _but._ Her tone annoyed him. Like she owned the place. Actually, everything about her annoyed him.

Stockhope paused in her desperate rush, her bellowing robes almost tripping her up at her abrupt halt.

" _Mr_. Strange I am the new Sanctum Inquisitor, appointed by several Masters. You _will_ respect my authority and answer my questions," the old woman snarled and Strange had to resist the urge to punch her face in. The Cloak tightened even further, like it was angry as well.

Stockhope's eyes narrowed to slits and it took Strange a second to realise what she was staring at.

"Where did you get _that_ relic?" Stockhope's voice had turned to ice. Her grey eyes had taken a dangerous glint.

The Cloak's grip was just under uncomfortable, the collar fluttered. Strange had a peculiar urge to cuddle it.

"The Cloak of Levitation?" He asked playing dumb.

"What are you doing? Having it out of its case like that?! The Cloak of Levitation is a priceless relic of unimaginable power and age and here you are just wearing it around like some cheap rag?!" Stockhope's face had taken an odd shade of purple.

Strange's hands curled into fists. He scowled staring down at the infuriating woman. How dare she just insult his Cloak. (He never realised when he had started defending it)

"This is _my_ relic Stockhope, I can choose whether to wear it or not in my own home," Strange snarled taking a step forward.

"Impossible, the Cloak would hardly choose a sorcerer such as yourself, you probably haven't even been studying for a year yet, who is the Master of this Sanctum anyway, they need to keep better control over their subordinates," with a little huff Stockhope totally disregarded what Strange had said. He scowled.

"Stop!" He yelled only to be ignored. To his surprise, the Cloak flew off his shoulders blocking Stockhope's path. The stupid hag made an unusual squeak.

"What is the meaning of this?!" She screeched, eyes bulging. The Cloak wrapped itself around her arms dragging her back to stand in front of Strange. She struggled pathetically. Strange raised an eyebrow.

"Stockhope I am the new Master of the New York Sanctum, appointed by The Ancient One less than two days ago. There is currently three apprentices studying in the Relics Hall and there has been new wards set up around the Sanctum. I hope it complies to your meticulous standards, goodbye now,"

"What do you mean goo- ahhhh stop what you are doing right no-"

Strange conjured a portal, his sling ring feeling warm on his fingers. The Cloak shoved the woman through before skipping out as the shimmering gold closed over cutting off the outraged protests from the other side.

"Know her?" He asked not really expecting an answer. He was pleasantly surprised when the Cloak did a nod of sorts before settling comfortably on his shoulders once again.

* * *

She came back.

Less than five minutes later Stockhope charged into the Sanctum, with a fully armed Wong and several others that Strange recognised from Kamar-Jaj.

"Strange?" Wong raised an eyebrow, his weapon lowering.

"That's him, the intruder!" Stockhope flung her arms out a string of blazing fire spewing from her fingertips. Strange was pulled out of the way of deadly streams, just barely, by the Cloak.

"What are doing?" Wong boomed slapping Stockhope's arms down. There was burns in the floor and wall. Strange practically growled at the damage.

"He attacked me! Manipulated the Cloak of Levitation to do his bidding!"

Wong sighed still gripping Stockhope's arms. The two other sorcerers with him looked on, bewildered.

"Stockhope he just sent you to my library, which I did not _appreciate_ Strange," Wong glared briefly in Strange's direction before scowling at the burn damage done by Stockhope. Speaking of Stockhope, the woman had gone suddenly quiet.

That's when Strange had noticed the familiar weight missing.

The Cloak was at Stockhope's feet, slowly crawling up her body until it settled snugly on her shoulders. Strange felt a terrible twist in his gut at the sight. Stockhope looked pleasantly thrilled. Strange reached out to grab his Cloak, but it shied away from his hand.

"It seems the Cloak of Levitation has picked a new master," Wong said quietly, sending a small sympathetic look to Strange. Strange did not want his sympathy, he wanted his Cloak back. Right now.

"Did you do something to it?" He demanded, nails digging into his shaking hands. The look of absolute pleasure and pride on Stockhope's face made Strange want to get sick. How could this be happening? Of all people, why did the Cloak pick _her?_

No matter how much he would rigorously deny it, Strange did feel hurt at the loss of his Cloak, a Cloak that had almost become a friend, a companion.

"I'll take my leave then boys," Stockhope said, sickly sweet. She pulled a sling ring out of her drewpy robes opening a portal to god knows where.

Then it happened.

Stockhope was just about to step through when the Cloak positively _leapt_ off her shoulders, snatched her sling ring and shoved her through her own portal.

It was simply _magnificent._

"It seems I was mistaken," Wong shrugged leaving in a trail of sparks.

A soft pat on his check reminded Strange that the Cloak was back, and quite content. He had to tell it to stop touching his cheeks as it freaked the apprentices that had come down to see what all the commotion was about.

* * *

Strange had only one week of peace.

He was in his makeshift library rearranging the books to his liking when he heard the unmistakable sound of a portal.

The hag was back, _again._

This time, she had her own little entourage. Four bright eyed, star struck students gravitated in her wake. Strange had a hard time believing that these students even _respected_ her, let alone committed enough to follow Stockhope around like lost puppies.

"Strange I am here to take what is rightfully mine," she had her sharp nose pointed in the air, as if trying to make herself look important. Strange thought that she just looked stupid.

"Yours Stockhope? You can't mean the Sanctum. Oh by the way, you are _not_ welcome here. So hurry up and leave, your presence irritates me," Strange hadn't even bothered to acknowledge Stockhope properly, brushing past her as he went to put a book back. He could feel the students giving him a glare. He didn't care.

"That is no way to treat a Master," a young annoying student stated, full of self importance. Strange planned to tune out anything else they said.

"Is that how you treat your Masters?" Another added.

"Strange show me the Master of this Sanctum," Stockhope demanded her hand reaching to grab his shoulder. The Cloak batted her away. Did he not say that he was the Master already?

"Don't touch me, I don't want to catch your ignorance," Strange snarled still not arsed to turn around. He could almost feel the students gaping behind him. The Cloak tucked itself closer.

"Never mind that you are abusing the power of a relic, but you have such disrespect for your elders!" Stockhope growled. Sighing, Strange turned his head.

"First of all, you are not _my_ elder, second of all I am the Master of this Sanctum, I have told you this before. I didn't know you were so dense that I have to tell you things twice. Want me to spell it out?" Strange put on his most condescending tone, smirking as the Cloak billowed out, almost like it was huffing.

"But only a Master can run a Sanctum…" a student tried. Strange was sick of this.

"It's pretty self explanatory. It's in the name in fact. I am Master Dr. Strange, trained by the Ancient One herself. So if you don't mind, get the hell out of my Sanctum," Strange took a menacing step forward, the Cloak puffing out making him look twice as intimidating.

"I'm-impossible I would have heard of a new Master, you are lying!" Stockhope's voice was so high pitched, it grated on Strange's ears in the worst possible way.

"Ugh didn't Wong tell you any of this?" Strange rubbed his head absently. It's not like he's been appointed for over two weeks already. Dammit Wong.

"I- you- can't," Stockhope sputtered, her little entourage converging around her. Almost like they we're trying to protect their pathetic teacher.

Stockhope opened her mouth a few times, making her look like a gaping fish.

"You're under arrest for the impersonating a high ranking official and abuse of a relic!" She tried to sound demanding. It didn't work.

"Oh have fun with that then," Strange replied. Twirling on his heel to go back to ignoring Stockhope he felt the Cloak tense up and heat blasted above his head, smoking the wall.

Strange had no time to snap at the fool, having to duck down to avoid another burst of flame. That would have hit his head.

"Are you trying to _kill_ me?" Strange spun conjuring a shield as a third wave of heat surged towards him. Stockhope was furious, her place grey eyes were _burning_ with hatred. Strange had only met the woman twice, but she clearly wanted him dead.

He really needed to stop pissing off people.

"Fine. That's it," Strange poured energy into his hands, gold sparks flaring into existence. He contorted the energy into his favourite shape; a whip.

With a shield in one hand and a whip in the other, Strange lashed out. The whip sizzled through the air latching onto Stockhope's right hand. He tugged back sharply, satisfied at Stockhope's startled yelp. Her students finally seemed to take action, clumsily conjuring weapons of their own. Strange ducked over another volley of fire and kicked Stockhope square in the chest. His foot connected nicely, sending the woman flying across the room.

The four students rushed him at the same time, trying to avenge their Master. Strange simply stepped back, watching them all crash into one another. One managed to stagger back up but Strange socked him solidly in the jaw. The boy wilted like paper dropping back to the floor, landing on one of his comrades.

A groan came from the other side of the room and Strange kicked the pile of bodies at his feet, once, twice and strode over to Stockhope. She was a lump on the floor. He reached out to grab her when a hand shot forward snatching his arm. Strange tugged back and she let go unexpectedly leaving him off balance. Stockhope jumped to her feet and too late did Strange notice a female student behind him, wrestling with the Cloak as she tried to attack from behind.

Stockhope took a nearby lamp and swung it down intending to smash it on Strange's head. He stepped back only to trip on the student behind him. An explosion of pain erupted from his skull and Strange suddenly remembered the table in the room. Dots invaded his vision and he felt like he was going to throw up. Vaguely he registered a pair hands closing around his throat before they suddenly vanished.

He struggled weakly to get back on his feet, the world tilting at alarming angles. He never noticed the foot flying towards his head.

Everything, it seemed, was aiming for his head he thought as the lights snuffed out.

* * *

" _Stephen?! Stephen can you hear me?"_

His skull was _throbbing_ , pounding with a determined vengeance.

" _Come on Strange,"_

Something felt wet on the back of his neck. It was trickling, warm and damp. Why did his neck feel cold?

" _I will ban you from the library Strange,"_

Ban him from the library? Preposterous. He'd sneak in anyway.

Wait what was he doing? It must have been something awesomely stupid to annoy Wong. Wong. Why was Wong here?

"Wha're you doin here Wong?" He groaned. Ugh this was like the worst hangover ever except ten times worse.

"Strange open your eyes. You have taken a blow to the head," Wong's voice had an exasperated tone to it. Maybe concern. Maybe.

Blow to the head…

Stockhope that _bitch!_

Strange leapt up and came crashing back down, nausea bubbling in his throat. Oh that had been a bad idea. It was felt like the floor was _moving._

"Mrgh,"

"Strange don't try to get up yet," Wong wisely advised. Yeah right. Could've said that earlier.

"Yeah" Strange murmured. He sluggishly touched the back of his neck. He peeled open an eyelid to see blood on his fingertips.

"What happened? Who attacked you?" Wong help him sit up. Ugh everything was spinning.

"Stockhope tried to hit me with a lamp Wong," Strange said, details slowly piecing together.

"The table got you instead," Wong replied dryly. "Why did Stockhope try hit you with a lamp?"

Oh yeah. The table. And then a foot.

Ow.

There was something missing though… _The_ _hands closing around his throat vanished…._

Ignoring Wong's question, Strange felt around his shoulders opening both eyes in panic when they felt bare.

"Where's my Cloak?"

* * *

The Cloak of Levitation was very annoyed at the moment. The student that it was harassing kept shaking and sniveling, meaning the portal they were trying to create kept collapsing.

The Cloak tightened it's grip on the student's arm causing her to yelp.

"Okay! Okay stop, stop! I'll do it again," she pleaded. The Cloak wished that it could glare. Instead it flattened itself out, looking twice as big. The student flinched away and started opening a portal again. It snuffed before the Cloak could even begin to approach it.

The Cloak fluttered over to the student, getting right into her space. It snatched the sling ring from her trembling fingers. It pushed her away and motioned for the only other conscious person.

Stockhope struggled to her feet. The woman was worse for wear, her robes were ripped and torn, bruises mottled her pale face. The Cloak tugged her when she moved too slow for its liking.

"I will not," she snarled. The Cloak insisted, its hold on her arms was almost crushing. It tightened further.

"STOP! Stop! Fine you stupid cloth," she yelled stumbling forward. The Cloak would smirk if it could.

"Where do you want to go?" She questioned. Her voice was strangled. The highly _respected_ Sanctum Inquisitor (ha that gave the Cloak a good internal laugh, in all of its years, it has never heard of such a ridiculous title before) was forced to do someone else's bidding. Stockhope did not like this one bit. Too bad it was her own fault that she got into this mess.

The Cloak reached into Stockhope's robes, much to her displeasure and pulled out a little black book. The woman's diary. The Cloak wrestled with the pages until it settled on one in particular.

 _Inspect New York Sanctum_

The Cloak shoved the book in Stockhope's face.

"The New York Sanctum?" she grunted. The Cloak threw the book to the ground, hitting Stockhope's leg on the way.

"Fine," she glared hotly, indignant anger flushing her face. The Cloak didn't care. Stockhope had spent the last hour complaining at her treatment " _Such disrespect, I will not stand for this!"_ She had yelled. The Cloak had thrown a large cactus in her direction and it had shut her up for a while. Stockhope's reaction was totally worth the cactus needles stuck in the Cloak's fabric.

Stockhope raised an arm and opened a portal, this time being able to hold it unlike her students. The Cloak pulled the woman forward until she was just in front of the portal. She was looking at it wearily, expecting the Cloak to pull the same trick as last time.

It did, with flawless results.

* * *

Strange was on the verge of panicking now. He had thought that Wong had arrived and relieved his throat of the crushing hands, only to discover that Wong had come to visit and had found him unconscious.

There had been no one else in the Sanctum.

The library was a mess, books were sprawled out everywhere. There were burns in the floor, the rug was singed beyond its original form, curling in on itself from the heat damage. There was scorch marks decorating the walls and bookshelves.

The table corner that Strange had fallen on was stained and encrusted with his own blood.

Still there was no Cloak.

Wong had tried to stop Strange from searching, but he ignored the librarian. Strange had stumbled around the Sanctum at least three times now, and he found no Cloak of Levitation.

He was getting worried

"Strange sit down. You are swaying," Wong wrestled him into a nearby chair.

"Who is that Renfa Stockhope anyway?" Strange rubbed at his temples willing the pain to leave his skull.

It didn't.

"Stockhope is the result of the destruction of the London Sanctum. People were scared when they realised that Sanctums could be destroyed," Wong explained sitting in a chair of his own.

"So they wanted an Inspector of sorts,"

"In essence, yes. However Stockhope has been a Master for many years. Very few are as skilled as she with fire. She was hoping to be appointed the New York Master. It probably doesn't help that it's no secret that she has always wanted the Cloak of Levitation for herself. Stockhope would visit many times hoping that the Cloak would chose her," Wong clasped his hands over his knees, giving Strange a pointed look.

"What?"

"You have no idea, the amount of sorcerers that would kill to be chosen by such a relic. The Cloak of Levitation has had few masters and hasn't last picked one since the eighteen hundreds," Wong raised an eyebrow. "The fact that it chose you of all people is a mystery,"

"Hey, I take offence to that. The Cloak was able to sense my genius," Strange replied with an eyebrow raise of his own.

"More like your inflated ego," Wong muttered. Strange shot him a glare.

"Do you know where Stockhope would have taken it?" Strange asked rubbing his sling ring. He was _itching_ to get revenge. No one could burn his library, give him a concussion and steal his Cloak and get away scott free.

Next time he saw Stockhope he was going to kick her ass.

He got out of his chair only to get tackled by a mass of red.

* * *

The Cloak sprang through the portal, Stockhope's sling ring in its grasp. It looked around, familiar with the New York Sanctum. It had to find Strange. Zipping upstairs the Cloak took a left and bounded into the library.

Strange had his back to it, sitting in a chair. The Cloak recognised the librarian Wong, who was sitting opposite.

The Cloak rushed forward tackling Strange in a sort of hug, forcing the sorcerer back into his chair. The Cloak patted him down looking for injury. It noticed the blood and swelling at the back of Strange's head.

It felt guilty for not protecting him, not seeing the table until it was too late. The Cloak wrapped around Strange, unwilling to loosen its hold.

"Where have you been?" Strange asks with a fond tone. The Cloak snuggles even closer.

It's not like the Cloak could tell him that it beat Stockhope unconscious with a lamp, or that it took her and her four students hostage.

The Cloak couldn't tell him that it forced one of the students to create a portal to the Sahara Desert, or that another student had to haul his comrades through said portal.

The Cloak certainly didn't tell Strange that it had been terrified when he had hit the table, or when a foot had collided with his head.

The Cloak would not tell him how angry it was that its Master had been hurt.

Strange started gently rubbing the Cloak, almost like he was reassuring it. The Cloak leaned into his touch.

"Why are you covered in sand? Where is Stockhope?" Strange asked. Wong gave him a weird look. Not many people registered the Cloak's sentience, fewer still talked to it.

The Cloak reluctantly got off Strange, floating over the world map that hung on the library wall. It pointed to the Sahara.

"What?" Wong got up coming to inspect the map further. Strange started laughing. The Cloak dropped the five sling rings that it had been holding to the floor.

The rings fell with a clang, drawing both Wong's and Strange's attention. With this Strange laughed even harder, doubled over in his chair.

"You left them in the Sahara?" Wong picked up one of the sling rings. The man cracked a tiny smile. The Cloak beamed with its job well done, going back to sit on Strange.

"I shall send people to collect them," Wong said, shaking his head in what could have been amusement. He left, picking up the remaining sling rings.

"So, did you beat them up?"

The Cloak did a nodding motion. Strange grinned.

"Not bad Cloak, not bad,"


End file.
